Red
by Supremia
Summary: Red was death, and life, and fire, and fighting, and pretty eyes and tired defeat, and blood and crimson overcoats, and red hair and angels. ElmaxLucil, one shot. Rated for some suggestive themes.


_Red_

Before, it had been a wish, a dream, tangled in the threads of teenage crushes and foolish fantasies. She allowed herself this dream, because it was all she had, what with Sin on a rampage, and Lady Yuna dancing, dancing forever. She wondered when it would stop. She wondered _if_ it would stop, but the thought was too painful to form into words. Her comrades would have died in vain, and even her optimism would crumble under a reality as harsh as that. 

So she allowed herself a dream. It certainly wasn't the most stable dream, it would switch as she saw fit. Sometimes, it would be soft, and sweet, waking up at sunrise with her curled at her side, or romantic, a bouquet of Besaidan lilies, them in white dresses, dancing in the moon. And sometimes it would be rough and low and simply _electric_, on top of her and drenched with sweat, and her soft, keening, panting moans as she arched her back, and red hair fell like a curtain of blood against the soft bedcovers... 

"Elma?" 

"What Clasko?" she snapped, annoyed. He always had a habit of interrupting. 

The man looked surprised at her unusual outburst, rocked from side to side. "Sorry, Elma. The captain...well..." 

Elma sat up, alert. "What about the captain?" 

"She's kind of...out of it, Elma." Clasko sat down next to her. "She just keeps staring off into space...I think she's blaming herself about the...well, the mission." 

"It wasn't her fault though...we were following orders." 

"I know. But you know, the captain...all honorable and everything. Maybe you should talk to her. You guys..." and he paused, awkward. He felt as if he was intruding on something whenever he mentioned the captain in front of Elma, like it was something secret, a quiet whisper of things he couldn't quite place. But he knew how she looked at the captain, knew how her face lit up when Lucil gave a compliment, noticed poorly hidden shivers when her fingers brushed against her arm. "You guys understand each other," he finally said, proud of his choice of words. "I'll go check on the chocobo, okay? I, uh I'll pick up supplies, and err, take the chocobo out for running. He needs the exercise. I won't be back for a while." He noticed Elma's almost...eager look, and added, "A long while." 

Elma gave him a weak smile. "Thanks Clasko." 

"No problem, Elma," he said, and meant it. All of this sexual tension was giving him a headache. 

--------------- 

"Captain?" Elma peeked her head into the room. The Al Bhed inn had been a blessing from Yevon after that harsh, weary battle. Lucil sat on a bed, still clad in the blood stained armor from earlier. 

"Captain?" Elma called again, more loudly this time. "Are you alright?" 

No answer. This was starting to get unnerving. Lucil had been subdued, of course, after they returned from Operation Mi'hen, but this was...unnatural. 

"Captain," Elma walked into the room, moved toward the bed. "Captain, snap out of it." She gripped the other woman's shoulders, frowned at the dull, blank look in her eyes. "Captain Lucil, come on, wake up." 

"Elma..." 

Elma smiled and ignored the tightness in her chest. "Yeah, it's me, Captain. You need to get up. You're all covered in blood and dirt." 

Lucil gave her a weak laugh. "Am I?" Her voice was low, soft, and almost bitter. Elma gripped her arm and pulled her up. Lucil wavered ever so slightly, but Elma's hold was firm. She set to work on unbuckling the armor. 

"What are you doing?" Lucil murmured. She sounded exhausted. Elma winced at the tone. 

"I'm taking off your armor, captain. You need to get out of it so that you can take a bath." 

"A bath? I'm tired, Elma..." 

"You can go to bed after your bath." 

"You sound like my mother," she murmured quietly, and then choked on the words, wiped away angry tears mixed with dirt and dried blood. "Thank you, Elma, for doing this," she whispered, her voice rubbed raw. 

"You're welcome, captain," Elma murmured quietly. _I'd do anything for you,_ she thought. 

The only sound after that was the sound of rustling cloth and clanking metal. 

----------------- 

Elma ran the bath while Lucil was in the other room, taking care to keep it from getting too hot. She yawned, and closed her eyes. This had been a hard day. 

"Elma, are you tired?" 

Elma jerked up at the sound of the voice and turned...and her mouth went slack. Captain Lucil in a towel. A white towel. A short white towel. She saw the faintest hint of a creamy, bare thigh and forced herself to look away. Lucil didn't seem at all perturbed, and simply repeated her question. 

"Are you tired?" 

"N-no, ma'am," Elma finally said, swallowing hard. "I'm alright." Suddenly remembering the running water, she turned it off with quick, jerky movements. "Your bath is ready." She kept her gaze to the floor and moved to leave, but stopped when she heard the soft thump of the towel hitting the floor. 

She wasn't going to look, she shouldn't look, no, no no... 

"Elma, I'm very..." Elma jerked her head up to see the captain's face, taking care not to linger too long at the swell of her breasts, or the shadowed apex of her thighs. The captain grimaced, swayed, and before Elma knew what she was doing, she had grabbed her arm, supported her weight. Lucil gave her a weak chuckle. 

"I'm a little woozy. Can you help me into the bath?" 

"A-alright captain." She tried not to focus on anything but the wall ahead, kept her fingers from twitching against the soft heat of Lucil's bare arm. She helped the captain into the bath without letting her eyes stray even once. 

Lucil sighed as she lowered herself into the warm water. "Thank you, Elma. The water is perfect." 

Elma flushed, and glanced down. Even the smallest of compliments was added to a special inventory in the back of her mind. She could sit for hours remembering all the trivial, minute compliments the captain had thrown her way throughout the years and be content. "You're welcome, Captain Lucil. I'll leave you to your bath." 

"Stay? Please?" Elma turned when she heard the almost desperate edge to Lucil's voice, and the red haired woman shuddered for a moment before continuing. 

"I'm sorry, Elma. I'd just prefer not to be alone right now. The battle was...Yevon, you saw it. It was...terrible, and poor Lady Yuna, she looked so exhausted. So many dead...we were in over our heads, and you..." she paused at the words. "...I don't know what I would have done...if I could have lived with myself. Just, please. I can't take the images out of my head...can you stay in here with me, and talk?"

Elma nodded, and sat on the floor. "What would you like to talk about, captain?" 

Lucil laughed, and it was a _real_ laugh, the kind she was used to. "What would _you_ like to talk about, Elma?" 

"Pardon, ma'am?" Lucil stretched in the tub, arched her back, and Elma swallowed hard as she watched strands of her damp red hair move lazily with the motion, cling to wet skin. 

"What would you like to talk about, Elma?" Lucil asked again. She rolled her head back, and Elma caught a glance of her long, delicate neck, slightly obscured by her hair. 

"I...I don't really have much to talk about, Captain." 

"What about your family? You never speak of them. Even Clasko has told me stories." 

"Nothing much to tell, captain. I lived in Kilika. My father fought with the Crusaders and died in battle. My mother is probably dead now too. I don't know. I haven't been there in years. I joined the Chocobo Knights when I was sixteen, I--" 

Lucil waved a hand, silencing her. "I could have gotten that from your records," and from the tone of her voice, Elma knew she had. "How about something else?" She paused. "Honestly, Elma," and she sighed, suddenly seeming older, tired. "I don't know anything about you. I didn't even bother to ask...what if..." she trailed off and slumped. "What's your favorite color?" 

"Red, ma'am." 

"Why's that?" 

"Because..." she glanced, briefly, at the dark, red strands of wet hair that clung to Lucil's face, thought of the blood on the battlefield, bright crimson, the color of Sir Auron's coat, the color of Lord Seymour's Fira spell, the color of that quiet, pretty mage's eyes, how Lady Yuna looked, her hands covered in caked, dry red blood, her eyes tired and defeated, bloodshot. Red. Her own armor was red, Luzzu's soft red hair as he stared up at the peaceful sky with dead, empty eyes, the bright shock of red hair from the loud guardian at Lady Yuna's side, the feathers of the red chocobo who had fallen, had its neck snapped in two by the Sinspawn. Red was death, and life, and fire, and fighting, and pretty eyes and tired defeat, and blood and crimson overcoats, and red hair and angels. "I just like the color, ma'am." 

"That's all?" Lucil sounded disappointed, and Elma suddenly wished she could have come up with something better. 

"That's all." 

Lucil thought for a moment. "My favorite color is violet." 

"Why, captain?" 

"I remember, when my mother was alive, she would spin me around in the prettiest dress. It was so soft, and it shimmered. She thought violet was too harsh a color, so she gave me lavender. But she wore violet, and she was...my mother was a beautiful woman. I was always fond of the color after that." 

"That's a...nice reason," Elma said lamely. She wasn't sure what else she could say. Lucil smiled, shifted in the bath. 

"I'm glad you think so." 

It was quiet, for the time being, the only sound being the occasional movement of bathwater. Lucil lolled her head back, closed her eyes. 

"Why do you stay with me?" 

Elma blinked, put her hands in her lap. She sighed, leaned against a wall, tried to keep her hands from shaking. "Pardon, ma'am?" 

"Why do you stay with me?" 

"Because...you're my captain." 

"That's it?" 

Elma bit her lip until she could taste blood. 

"No." 

"Then what else?" Lucil's voice was soft. Elma glanced down at her hands as she spoke. 

"Because...I admire you, Captain. Because you're a strong, dedicated, woman. Because...I..I respect you, that's all." 

"That's not all, is it Elma?" 

"I beg your pardon, captain?" Elma wrung her hands as she spoke, practiced drills in her head. 

"There's something else. Clasko respects me, I know that much. That, and he likes the chocobos," she chuckled to herself, "That's why he stays. But you...you...something is different." 

Elma was still staring down at her hands, but she could swear she heard the Captain thinking, she could hear the wheels turning in her head. "Nothing is different, Captain." 

"Why are you lying to me, Elma?" 

"I'm not." 

"You...what are you hiding?" 

"I'm not hiding anything, Captain," Elma said, forcing a laugh. "Don't worry about it. Do you need me to help you out of the bath?" 

Lucil's eyes narrowed, and she shook her head. "No, that's alright. Elma...thank you." 

"You're welcome, Captain." 

---------------- 

Elma fell on to her bed, sighing. "That was...close. So close." She closed her eyes. "Yevon...I'm tired." 

"Elma?" Elma glanced up. 

"Captain? Do you need anything?" Lucil shook her head, moved to the edge of Elma's bed and sat, brandishing a comb and brush. She set to work on pulling the tangles out of her hair. The white towel fell off of one shoulder as she worked. 

"Honestly, Elma, I don't know why I don't just cut my hair," she chuckled softly, and Elma gave her a hesitant smile. The conversation from earlier had been forgotten, she hoped. 

"I think your hair is fine, Captain." _Red strands spun with gold, watch how it shimmers._

"You do? What else do you think of it?" 

Elma frowned. Something was wrong. The captain stared at her carefully, gauging her reaction. 

"It's...red?" Elma muttered stupidly. She inwardly smacked her forehead. 

"I'm well aware of that, Elma," Lucil laughed. She propped herself up on her elbows, the comb and brush forgotten. Dark eyes danced in amusement. 

Elma gulped, tore her eyes away. "I think you have lovely hair, Captain," she stammered. "You shouldn't cut it." 

"Would you be upset with me if I did?" 

Elma blinked. What was _with_ these questions? "It's your hair, captain," she said a bit testily. Something about these questions was making her edgy. "I don't have the right to be upset with you if you chose to cut it." 

"But would you be?" Lucil gave her that strange, careful glance. The towel had loosened again. Elma played with the fringes of the bedspread to distract herself. 

"Maybe..." 

"Maybe? It's a simple yes or no question, Elma." Elma watched her eyes widen, as if to communicate wordlessly. _Yes or no, Elma? Come on, it's an easy enough question. Why do you stay? Why are you doing this? Why? You could have died, but you keep following me. Why?_

"Because you have lovely hair, and you shouldn't cut it. Because it's...well, it's just a part of you, Captain." She nodded to herself, satisfied with her answer. "That's why." 

She was, of course, a little surprised when the captain moved, faster than she had thought possible, and pinned her to the bed. She wasn't smiling, the question game had been forgotten. 

"I'd like to know why my Second-in-command has been lying to me this entire evening. Could you enlighten me as to why?" 

"Captain?" Elma squeaked out. "Your towel, it fell off..." she managed to say. 

"I don't care. Explain yourself. Now." 

Elma squirmed beneath her, trying not to notice how soft she was. "I...I'm afraid I don't understand--" 

"For the last time, Elma, quit dancing around the subject. Explain yourself." 

Elma felt a flash of anger, saw red cloud her vision. Somewhere, the logical part of her mind told her what she was about to do was honestly a _bad_ idea, but she brushed it off. No more listening to logic. 

Summoning her strength of will, she gripped the back of Lucil's neck and pulled her into a kiss. Lucil gasped in surprise, but Elma caught the sound in her mouth, holding her still. 

She pulled away, finally, taking gulps of air. Lucil stared at her, dazed, her face flushed, her lips bruised from the kiss. "Elma..." she began, hesitantly. 

"There," Elma said breathlessly. "I explained myself." 

--------------- 


End file.
